“No! No! No!” Tom screamed the words. “Juanita! Where is . . . Juanita!”
The girl hurried to his side. He had done so much for her. She must be strong now. He needed her. She could not be his wife, but she could be his friend now, his strength.
“Tom. I am here.” She leaned close.
He reached up and grasped her arm, opening frightened bloodshot eyes. “Don’t let them do it,” he begged, his eyes tearing. “Don’t let them take my leg.”
He squeezed her arm so tightly that it hurt, but she said nothing. She touched his dark hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. “I won’t let them,” she said softly.
“Stay with me,” he pleaded. He shuddered then with pain as one of the sisters began washing the wound. He sucked in his breath in gulping sounds. “Stay . . . with me.”
She had no idea why, but she bent closer, kissing his cheek. “I will stay with you,” she told him calmly. “I will not leave you.”
His breathing calmed a little. “I don’t care if I die,” he groaned, a tear slipping down the side of his face. “I just . . . wanted to see you once more . . . be . . . close to you, Juanita.”
His eyes closed and he continued to grip her arm with surprising strength. “Don’t let go of me,” he muttered.
She knelt beside the bed, putting her head down and managing finally to make him let go of her arm. She took his hand and held it tightly between both her hands. “I won’t let go,” she promised. She began praying while the sisters frantically washed him. There was a general discussion of what should be done, and Juanita looked up at Father Juarez.
“I promised him they would not take his leg. You must do whatever you can to save it, or let him die. He is not the kind of man who would want to live with only one leg.”
The old man nodded.
The infection had to be cauterized if there was to be any hope of saving the leg. Even then there was no guarantee. The room was filled with Tom’s screams and the smell of burning flesh. Through it all Tom clung to Juanita’s hand, until finally he passed out.
Suddenly the room was quiet. Everything that could be done was done, and Tom lay unconscious in the bed, washed and covered. Juanita was alone with him, and never had she prayed so hard as she prayed now for Tom Sax to live.
• Chapter Nineteen •
Juanita never left Tom’s side through the night. She fell asleep with her head on the edge of the bed and her hand still holding his. In the wee hours of the morning she awoke to the soft chanting of Father Juarez, who was administering the last rites. Her heart quickened at the deep circles under Tom’s eyes, the yellowish look to his normally healthy dark color.
“Father,” she whispered, raising her eyes to meet the priest’s. Her own immediately teared.
“It does not look good, child. We cannot tell whether he will live. It is important to save his soul. Although he thought his cause was good, he has taken many lives. But I am sure that God will see into his good heart and will welcome him with open arms.”
Juanita stood up. “He can’t die! He can’t,” she said through tears, keeping her voice to an urgent whisper. “What will I do? It would all be my fault.”
The priest shook his head. “Not your fault, child. What he did was his choice. I warned him where his hatred and bitterness would lead. He has brought it upon himself.” His heart went out to her at the desperate look on her face. She had suffered so much. “Pray with me, Juanita.”
She shook with the effort of holding back a torrent of tears, kneeling beside the bed again and taking Tom’s hand. The priest continued his ritual. When he finished he came around to Juanita’s side of the bed, touching her shoulder.
“I sense in him a wish to die, Juanita.”
The girl looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “But why, Father? Why would he want to die?”
He watched her sadly. “You do not know?”
She hung her head, breaking into tears, and the priest bent down and grasped her arms, making her rise. “Do not blame yourself, Juanita. But think about what is in his own heart. He loves you very much, and sometimes when a man is so badly wounded, it is only the desire to live that determines whether or not he will live. Think about how you truly feel about this man, your true reasons for turning to the church. It is possible God has brought him here this way for a reason. And you, Juanita, could be what decides whether or not he lives. You could give him reason to live, child; or reason to die.”
His words rang in her ears as he left her alone with Tom. She checked her tears, trying to think as she stared at the man she once loved, once desired in ways she was sure she could never desire a man again. She realized more fully than ever how much he had also suffered, only in different ways than she had suffered. She daringly allowed herself to remember what it had been like to let him kiss her. It had been so sweet, seemed so right. But that was a different Juanita, one who had never known man. Now she had known the male species in all the intimate ways a woman could know man, only it had all been ugly and vicious. Surely not even Tom Sax could make such things beautiful and sweet for her again, nor could she even contemplate lying that way with him and letting him try.
And yet she loved him so. That had not changed. The priest had said she could help Tom live, and she knew that it was probably true. Was that why God had sent him here? Was she to reconsider some of her decisions? It was all confusing and frightening. His screams of pain still echoed in her ears, as her hand still ached from his tight grip.
“Stay with me, Juanita,” he had said over and over. He was so lonely, in some ways just as lost and broken as she.
He stirred then, groaning with pain. It was the first time he had moved or uttered a sound in hours. His face broke out in perspiration and she quickly wet a cloth and gently patted his face. His movement gave her a tiny bit of hope.
“Juanita,” he whispered.
“I am here,” she said softly.
His breathing was light, and his whole body shuddered. “My . . . leg.”
“They did not take your leg, Tom. I promised you they wouldn’t.”
“Can’t feel . . . move it. . .”
“The wound is still very bad, Tom. You must give it time.”
His eyes slowly opened. She wondered if she should get Father Juarez, but she also did not want to leave him. His eyes were red with fever. “Promise me . . . you will visit my grave,” he whispered.
She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “There will be no grave to visit. You are not going to die, Tom.”
“It would be . . . best. . . lose my leg . . . lose you. . .” His eyes closed again.
“I told you you will not lose your leg.” She set the cloth aside, summoning all her courage. He looked so pitiful, and she didn’t care about anything other than that he must live. She had to do something to make him try harder. She leaned closer, wondering where she found the words. “Tom, look at me.”
He opened his eyes again. In his pain and confusion he wondered if she was just Juanita in angel form. Perhaps he had already died. “Please live, Tom,” he heard her saying. “If you live, I promise I will marry you.”
He studied her, struggling to determine if this was real or a dream or the path to heaven.
“Do you hear me, Tom? I do not want you to die. If you still want to marry me, I will be your wife, if only you will get better and live. Please, Tom. Please, don’t die.” He saw the tears in her eyes, felt her soft, tiny hand touch his face. It all seemed so real.
Juanita watched the love growing in his eyes, could almost feel a new surge of energy moving through him. It was done. She had made the promise and could not take it back. Was it what God wanted? If it was, then surely he would give her the strength to keep the promise and to be a woman for this man. At the moment she could not imagine how she was going to manage, but she knew that if any man would understand and be patient with her, it would be Tom. But then maybe he wouldn’t even remember the promise. He was so deep in pain that this moment might be forgo
tten when he was better.
“Tell me . . . again,” he muttered.
She took his hand. “I will marry you, Tom, if you live. Please do not die. I could not bear it.”
His eyes slowly closed. “My Juanita,” he whispered, slipping again into blessed unconsciousness.
Jess moved a hand under Lynda’s gown and over firm hips and the smooth skin of her flat stomach. She was warm and relaxed as she slowly moved out of the deep sleep of early morning and turned toward him, curling up against him.
“What do you think you’re doing, Jess Purnell?”
He nuzzled her neck. “I just had this urge to make love,” he said softly. “I like this time of day—everything quiet and sleepy.” He moved on top of her, and she realized he was naked.
“Jess, I’m not even awake,” she weakly objected as he pushed up her gown.
“Go back to sleep if you want,” he teased, moving between her legs.
She laughed lightly. “Shall I pretend this is all just a nice dream?”
“Well, I should hope a dream and not a nightmare.”
She started to laugh more, but his lips met her mouth, and in a moment he was inside her, both of them quickly on fire and moving in rhythmic desire beneath a heap of warm quilts.
Jess loved his tall, beautiful, dark wife in every way a man could love a woman. He felt her pulsating climax, and much as he tried to prolong her pleasure, his was so great in this weak, sweet moment of the morning that his life soon poured into her in his own ecstatic climax. He groaned with the almost painful throbbing, grasping her hips and kissing her hair. Then he relaxed, nuzzling Lynda’s neck and remaining inside her for several seconds.
“I love you, Lynda,” he told her softly, pulling away from her but remaining close beside her to envelop her in his arms.
She ran her fingers over his muscled forearm. “I love you, too.” She rubbed at her eyes and turned to face him, thinking how handsome he was with his thick, sandy hair all tousled and his whole countenance relaxed and sleepy. She kissed the thick hairs of his brawny chest. “What got into you, Jess Purnell?”
He grinned and gently massaged a hand over her breasts. “I don’t know. The thought of what it would be like if I didn’t have you, I guess.”
She settled against him, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling, pulling the covers close around her neck. “Well, you do have me.”
He sighed deeply, lying on his side with his arm over her chest. “Yeah, but you can be pretty stubborn, Lynda Sax Purnell.”
She frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He swallowed as though suddenly nervous. “It’s just . . . I’ve been thinking, Lynda . . . about California and all. If things go right over the winter, we’ll be going come spring.”
“And?”
He kissed her hair again. “And ever since I’ve known you—been married to you—we’ve stayed near Caleb and Sarah for your sake. I know how you feel. You grew up wondering who and where your parents were, dreaming of what they would be like. When you found them, it was the first security and love you had ever known. But you have me now and your own family—John, little Jessica. And you’re a grown woman.”
Her heart tightened, and she told herself to wait, think, remember how much she loved this man. “You don’t want to go to California?”
He rubbed her arm. “I’d never do that to you, Lynda—make you be that far away from them. After all, you’ve already had to give up Cale. But when we go, maybe . . . maybe you and I could settle in some town a little bit away from wherever your folks end up . . . close enough to visit but far enough to have something of our own.”
Her eyes teared, and she felt like a foolish little girl. How long had Jess thought such thoughts? How long had he stayed close to her parents simply for her sake, because he knew how much she loved and needed them?
“It’s really up to you, Lynda. It’s just that I’m almost thirty-eight years old, and I’ve never had something of my very own. I could have. But I knew you wanted to be near Caleb and Sarah, so I settled for working with Caleb and sharing the load. I’ve never minded all that much. I love the man. I’d die for him, and I think he’d die for me. But I’m a man, Lynda, and I have a need to know I can manage on my own. I want to own something that’s just mine, something I can hand down to John and Jessica. If we go to California, Caleb will end up being near Tom if he can find him, and I can understand that. But I want to do something of my own, Lynda. It’s like . . . like I’ve always been a Sax instead of Jess Purnell. It’s like I should have taken your name instead of you taking mine.”
He waited, ready for an explosion. Being close to her long lost parents meant a great deal to her and no one understood that better than Jess. Could she understand how he was feeling?
He sighed deeply and lay back against the pillow. “Lynda, this has just been building up inside me. I love your folks like they were my own, and I’m willing to go to California if for no other reason than to help them get there safely. But I’ve got to have a place of my own once we get there.”
A tear slipped down the side of her face. “Tell me the truth.” She swallowed to keep from crying harder. “If I insisted we stay on with them, would you leave me to find whatever it is you’re looking for? Is it just . . . the drifter in you talking?”
He reached over and put a hand to the side of her face. “No, it’s not the drifter. It’s just Jess Purnell, the man. And if I left, it would be to find that man, not because of a need to wander, and certainly nothing to do with you. I love you and I need you, Lynda. I don’t want to be apart from you—ever, if I can help it. I don’t doubt I would probably bury all these feelings and stay on with Caleb, if that’s what you insisted on doing.”
She breathed deeply. “Jess, I’ve never thought of you as a Sax. And if I’ve made you feel like one, I’m sorry. I guess I just took it for granted you were happy with things the way they were. You never let on—”
“I didn’t let on because just winning your love was challenge enough. I wasn’t about to try to take you away from your folks at that time. Then we had all that trouble in Texas—and more problems when we came here. Then Cale ran off.” He sighed, toying with her hair. “It’s just been one thing after another. There was never a right time to bring it up. But if I don’t do something about it when we go to California, and while I’m still young enough to work my own place, I’ll never do it.”
She closed her eyes against more tears. “I never realized . . .” She turned to face him and he turned also, drawing her into his arms and letting her cry against his chest. “I’m sorry, Jess. All those years in that orphanage when I had that blue quill necklace, I used to make up dreams about what they were like. I never let myself believe they didn’t love me. When I found them and found the hell they had gone through, I learned how much they would have loved me if we could only have been together...”
“I know. But honey, those are lost years now. You’re a grown woman with a husband and children of your own. You can’t go back and be the little girl your mother never got to hold and raise. And from now on I’d like us to be Purnells, not Saxes. That doesn’t mean we can’t always remind our children that they also have Sax blood in them. There’s certainly plenty in that to be proud of. But I also want them to be proud to be Purnells.”
“Of course you do,” she whispered. She sniffed, using a quilt to wipe her tears that fell on his bare chest. “Jess, you should have said something a long time ago. I’ve been awfully selfish, haven’t I? When I insisted on helping with the ranch back in Texas, when everything was folding under and then I lost that baby because of it—you should have said something right then. I lost it because I was so devoted to Father, when I should have been thinking more about you and your needs.”
He stroked her hair, overjoyed inside that she was more understanding than he had expected. But he knew it was only her love for him that was speaking; that she would always rather be near her parents. He had given
something up for her for years. Now she was willing to do the same.
“Those were bad times, Lynda. We were all under a strain. But it’s all behind us.”
She kissed his chest again. “You do what you need to do, Jess. I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”
He moved back a little, meeting her moving blue eyes, Caleb Sax’s eyes. “You sure?”
She smiled through tears. “I’m sure. I’ve not been a very good wife, have I?”
“You’ve been everything I wanted and more.” He kissed her forehead. “And if we get out there and find out some bad news about Tom, we don’t have to leave out on our own right away. I realize what we find out there will make a big difference in whether or not it’s right to leave Caleb.”
She snuggled against him. “Tom means so much to him. It worries me that father has had another dream about Tom’s being in trouble. Mother said he woke up sweating the other night, sure Tom had called out to him again. Father is usually right when he has those feelings. He’s so strong spiritually.”
“Well, maybe we’ll get another letter before winter sets in.”
“I hope so, for Father’s sake. Mother says he’s so restless, and James’s wanting to go east isn’t helping anything. That will be hard on both of them.”
“I think the boy should go. Maybe once he’s away from familiar things, he’ll be able to think more clearly about his life.”
She looked up at him again. “Is that how you feel?”
He traced a finger around her lips. “Sometimes.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Jess. Don’t keep things from me. Nothing is-more important than being with you and knowing you’re happy. But maybe it’s best we don’t say anything until we get there and find out about Tom. It means waiting over a year yet, Jess. We can’t leave until the spring, and it will be late summer by the time we get there.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just knowing you understand makes me feel better about everything. I can wait a little longer.”
He kissed her lightly, then found himself kissing her harder, loving her more for accepting his feelings so readily. She returned the kiss with fervor, wanting to show him how much she loved him, thinking how terrible it would be to live her life now without Jess. He was so much man, and she wanted him to know she thought of him as the separate, wonderful human being that he was. It seemed right to seal their new agreement, and her own new awakening to the man who was her husband, by making love once again.
Destiny's Dawn Page 26